Last night I saw my world explode v1
by Perfect xHarmony32
Summary: Pete Wentz is in trouble, but Joe Trohman, along with his other friends can help. If he lets them. before FOB. Joe and Pete alt. POV
1. I want to be numb

He looked angry even as he slept, Pete I mean. He is my best friend, no my brother, but he can get on my nerves someti… okay _most_ of the time. Here is his latest entrance into my room…

_Thump!_

"_Pete? What the fuck, man? Why are you _here_" I asked jumping up from my bed where I had been sleeping._

"_Why d'you live on like the _highest_ fucking floor?" he speech was slurred and he smelled of beer._

"_Shhhhh! My parents are down the hall!" I whisper shouted._

"_Okay." He garbled rolling over on my bed._

"_Dude, your shit faced." I shook my head._

_ He mumbled something along the lines of "party…don't… Andy." I knew what that meant though he'd gone to a party, gotten trashed, and decided to crash with me because he'd promised Andy he wouldn't drink so much._

"_Pete, you can't stay here. My parents will flip!" I ran my fingers through my hair._

"_Please, Joe, I can't go home." He was already falling asleep in my bed._

"_No, Peter, you have to own up. We all care way to much about you to go through this again." I knew he was asleep which is the only reason I had the guts to say that. "Tell your parents you have a problem they'll understand." I slipped his shoes off and removed his hat and sweatshirt. "If you don't tell them Andy and I will." I laid down next him, my bed scarcely big enough for both of us. He stirred slightly putting his head on my arm, and mumbled something incoherently…_

"NO! NO! STOP! HELP!" he screamed thrashing around wildly.

"Pete, sh! I'm here! I'll always be here. Shhhh." I hushed him, wrapping my arms around him, as he forced his eyes open panting.

"Joe?" he leaned against me, going limp.

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Good," he hugged me back his voice shaking as much as his body. "Good, you're here. Someone's here."

"'The nightmare' again?" I asked saying the all to familiar phrase

"Yes. It's always worse when I drink." The nightmare seemed to have sobered him up, at least.

"Then why do you do it?" I snapped pulling away.

"You do it too!" he curled up hugging his knees. "You've done worse!"

"I've never drank myself sick and then proceeded to make out with _everyone in the room_, Peter! I draw the line!" I hissed. My mind knew I shouldn't hit so low as his sexuality, but he had to stop and think sometime.

"I know." He said self loathingly. "But do you know that feeling? Right before you reach your limit? That numbness?"

"Yeah? Why?" I hated that empty numb feeling, which is why I always stopped. As I thought of this I cocked my head, looking at the part of his face that wasn't covered by dark hair.

"That's honestly the best I remember feeling, like, ever." I wrapped my arms around him once more as his voice cracked. "My limit just seems to be getting farther and farther away." I knew by his voice he was crying, that's when my heart broke.

Pete had been crying more and more often lately. Probably just stress, or something, but I wasn't sure. Pete had been doing less and less; he had quit soccer, stopped giving Andy and me the lyrics he wrote, he spent days without anyone hearing from him, but the worst had been the lashing out. It started out simple, a snide remark that was meaner than he usually made his jokes; then things like yelling at us, about the dumbest things; and now it was this, drinking, Pete hadn't been a heavy drinker, like me he new his limits, but it seemed more and more he had been pushing those limits, testing the waters beyond the realm of a 15 year olds knowledge.

I just hoped he didn't do something dumb, like getting in the car with his drunk 'friends'. They didn't seem like his friends though, they didn't care for him the way Andy and I did.

I looked at him wondering if I should wake him. He was scratched and bruised; he must've climbed the tree outside of my window. We had climbed that tree so many times he could always do it, even when he was drunk.

"Pete?" I shook him slightly.

"Mmphhh." He mumbled.

"You awake, man?" I asked looking at his face.

"No." he pulled my blanket over his head.

"School today." I grabbed my homework from my nightstand and stuffed it into my bag.

"I don't have my shit." His voice was muffled.

"We can get it." I frowned at the bad excuse.

"How?" he had sat up at least.

"Andy's mom on her way to work said she'd pick us up." I grabbed some clothes and threw them at him. "Borrow these."

He put them on with little complaint, though I did hear him murmur how I was taller than him.

"Like three inches! They'll fit, Pete! It's your own fault you're hung over. Now get dressed."

"Fine." He grabbed the clothes and changed. Pete was a lot of things, but modest towards his friends was not one of them.

* * *

My head felt like it had been run over. Being hit in the head with a belt didn't help.

"Ouch!" I rubbed my head as Joe flung clothes at me.

"Sorry." I looked at the belt. Too big. I hate being skinnier than all my friends. All of my friends are pretty skinny, though they say I take it to a new level. I wrapped it around my waist, and tightened it till it fit perfectly, then poked a new hole in the soft, worn leather. Joe wouldn't notice he _never_ does.

"Time?" I sniffed my hoodie, and decided to borrow one of Joe's. Somehow I don't think the school would be to happy if I showed up smelling like beer and Jack Daniel's.

"Umm…" he looked at the clock. "5-ish."

"What kind of 5-ish?" I smirked raising an eyebrow.

"5:10."

"Thank you! Was that so hard?" He rolled his eyes.

"You smell like happy hour." Joe grinned as he passed me to get his bag.

"I'll take a shower." I noticed it too, now. It was faint, but distinct.

"A short one!"

"Okay, okay! Don't worry Mrs. Trohman I won't be late!" I let a grin slide on my face for the first time in what felt like forever.

The water fell smoothly on my back soothing my aching hung over muscles. I never had a full-blown hangover it was always a few things. a headache, sore body, exhaustion. Just like now, my head hurt and I was achy, maybe more tired than usual but I'd had a late night, but not much else. I could probably just hold my liquor well.

After I'd cleaned off I grabbed the towel Joe had thrown in when I had been thinking about my hangover. Then I got dressed in the clothes Joe had lent me. All together I got together pretty quickly; dressed, undressed, showered, dried, dressed, brushed my hair, rinsed my mouth with mouth wash like a hundred times, and walked down to meet Joe in the hall.

"'Bout time." He smirked from the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, c'mon that was quick." I shook my head.

"Sure, for _you_. Breakfast?" he offered me a muffin he'd probably taken while I was in the shower.

"No." I think I would throw up if I ate something at 5:50 in the fucking morning after a night of drinking. No scratch that I _know_ I'd throw up. I grimaced at that thought.

"Okay, but, Pete, you have to eat something to help get the alcohol out of your system." He whispered meaning his parents were up.

"Joseph, who are you talking to?" his mother asked from the kitchen.

"Pete, he came to see if I wanted to walk to school with him."

"I thought you were getting a ride with that Andy." A pretty, middle-aged woman walked in from a doorway down the hall.

"I am, Pete, didn't know."

"Hi, Mrs. Trohman." I made sure not to breathe on her in case my breath still reeked of last night.

"Hello, Peter, what have you been up to? How's soccer?" she looked at me as if she was interested. I hate small talk. No one _wants_ to engage in small talk! Why do it?

"I quit. Focusing on music." I could see her glance at Joe before speaking.

"Yes, well, you should still stay active." I heard her bite back a lecture. F_uck that _I thought, though I heard myself say something about 'not dreaming of becoming lazy' she smiled at that one. I heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, Andy." Joe smiled. "Okay if Pete comes."

"And if I said no?"

"I would be horribly crushed!" I pouted.

"Yeah sure, Pete, you can come." He laughed.

"No don't do me any favors." I said sarcastically.

"You three should get to school." Joe's mom interrupted.

"Okay. Bye, mom!" Joe pulled me out the door.


	2. Addictive personality

Disclaimer: i will only say this once. As many times as i've asked people to buy me Peter Wentz no one has . i own nothing.

a/n: this is where v2 comes in it is Pete/Joe-ish and is a little longer in some chapters.

* * *

He came into my room through my window." I was telling Andy in Study Hall. 

"Drunk?" Andy seemed surprised.

"You know Pete." I shrugged looking back to my book.

"Yeah, still though it's not like him to lie to us." Pete had told Andy he wouldn't drink.

"Pete hasn't been Pete." I shook my head, and put my book down knowing I'd never read it this period the way Andy gets.

"How come you don't get mad when I drink or smoke?" I questioned. He always just seemed to not want to be around me if I did it, but he wanted to stop Pete.

"It's not I don't get mad, I try not to be around when you smoke," he shrugged. "But Pete. I don't know. He has…" he searched for a word.

"An addictive personality?" we jumped as we turned to find Pete. I eyed his face, but the mask showed no emotion.

"Pete, I was just gonna say-"

"No, don't bother." He walked up to the teacher's desk.

"Peter? What can I do for you?" I strained to hear.

"Since you're my homeroom teacher I'm supposed to give you this."

"Oh!" she sounded surprised. "Okay I hope you feel better soon." She scribbled a note on, what I assumed to be, Pete's file.

I looked at him with a confused face, and he handed me a slip of paper. It read:

_Please excuse Peter for a doctor's appointment today and most of tomorrow._

I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he was gone.

"Pete's better at forging, at least." Andy pointed to the signature.

"I think its real." That was what scared me. Pete hadn't told me about this. He had slept in my bed, and gave me creepy drunken hugs all night, but he hadn't once mentioned a doctor appointment.

"He tell you."

"No he didn't tell you?" Andy raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe that's why he's been weird, he's sick."

"Liver problem." Andy smiled.

"C'mon, man, this is serious!" I tucked the note in my bag.

"I know, sorry." He said more seriously.

"So, bro?"

"What?"

"What do you think?" I asked in a frustrated voice.

"I don't know. I mean… it's Pete." I wanted him to stop saying that, but it was true.

I realized what I had been denying. My best friend, my brother, was a mess.


	3. Admitting Addiction

sorry i have not updated my laptop died just as i was finishing chapter 5 and i hate my desktop! plus i had to move files around.

* * *

I was sitting in the waiting room, my leg bouncing as I fidgeted with my hands every so often.

"Stop that, Peter." My mom spoke softly.

"How… how did you know?" I asked the question that had been on my mind since I was called into the office.

"Mrs. Trohman called. She found your jacket under Joe's bed. She said it smelled like alcohol." She didn't sound mad. Just… disappointed. I hated that more than yelling.

"How does she know it wasn't Joe's?" I asked knowing it was lame.

"She said that it was too small. Why was it Joe's?" she sounded slightly hopeful as if with one 'yes' I could redeem myself in her eyes.

"No." I sighed. It took a lot out of me to look her in the eyes as the hopeful sparkle disappeared, but I loved Joe and Andy, they were my brothers. Sure now Andy was a mother's dream didn't drink or do drugs, though around us he was still the same guy. Joe however was just better at acting like nothing happened washing hoodies, using mouthwash, and knowing his limit. Joe never got _drunk_ just buzzed enough to wake up clear-headed. I wasn't good at knowing my limit. Well I knew it… I just ignored it for the most part.

"Peter Wentz?" my name was called.

"I'll wait here." I hated the disappointment in her voice.

"Okay, mom." I said softly, and sadly.

"Hello, Peter. I am Dr. Steckmen."

"Hey." I took a seat as he gestured to it.

"Okay, Peter, so why are you here?" I didn't like him.

"I got drunk hid at a friends house, and hid it from everyone else." It was as if someone else said those words.

"I see. Why did you drink?" He asked scribbling something down.

I thought. Should I tell him, only Joe knew. I supposed he _was _a doctor. "I like the numbness." Now it was someone else, it was that Peter that had lay down and told Joe everything it wasn't the Pete who had woken up and lied the whole day.

"Excuse me?"

"That numb feeling of nothingness. Just before you hit the fuck-I'm-shit-faced level? It feels better than anything else." I looked down.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what the fuck I mean! The numb feeling?"

"Yes?" I hated how he glossed over the swearing.

"It feels good to me!"

"Explain."

"It is the best fucking feeling I've had in as long as I can fucking remember." I said simply.

"I see." He wrote something down. "Is there anything else I should know?"

I was beginning to hate him. "I have insomnia. When I do sleep I have nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares?" his pen was poised over the paper.

"Well there are… dark things, but they're far away." I tried, and failed, to describe it.

"Hmmm, is it just that one nightmare?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

"So your friend-"

"Joe."

"Yes, Joe helped you hide this?"

"Yeah. Wait, no, I don't want Joe to get in trouble!" I stood.

"Don't worry, Peter, he won't." I could tell it was a lie.

"No, man, not cool! I can't get Joe in trouble! He is my best friend!"

"Tell me about your friends, I swear to you nothing will leave this room."

"They're all like me. Not Andy, he's a good boy. He doesn't drink, do drugs, or have sex. Nothing." I sat anger forgotten.

"Tell me about Joe." I knew that was coming, after all he was the one who hid this fuck up.

"I barely know him." It was a truth and a lie, I had practically just met him, but I also knew everything about him.

"You said he was your best friend. Describe him for me, once again nothing you say will leave this room."

"He's good at hiding things. He smokes and drinks but his parents don't know. Not as much as me of course, he told me off when I broke into his room last night. He's pretty undercover bad ass." I smiled slightly at the joke.

"Hmm… well unless you have anything else. We're done." He stood and shook my hand.

I walked out into the waiting room.

"How was it?" my mom was waiting for me.

"Fucked up." I shrugged. She just shook her head. Swearing didn't get me her attention anymore; _nothing_ got me _anyone's_ attention anymore that's why I had started drinking.


	4. Don’t Let Them See You Cry

"Joseph?" I heard a knock.

"Yeah, mom?" I set my guitar down on my bed.

"Andy is on the phone." I picked up the phone in my room.

"I got it up here!" at least my mom thought I deserved some privacy.

"Joe? So what do you think?"

"Andy? I don't know about what?" he sounded worried.

"Pete," I should have known. "He went to a shrink, Joe, this is serious! What did he tell you he said?"

"What?" I was surprised.

"Pete. Went. To. Therapy." He said with forced calm making every word clear.

"What? He did not tell me anything about that!" I was annoyed now.

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all I get is 'oh'? Pete is my best friend what did he tell you?" I was on my feet now pacing as far as the cord would allow.

"I don't know, Joe. You should talk to him about it."

"I will. Bye, Andy."

"Bye, Joe, good luck with Pete."

I hung up and dialed the Pete's house.

"Hello?"

"Pete?"

"Umm… hang on." It was his brother. "Pete! Joe is on the phone!"

"Fuck. Hang on! Hey, Joe?"

"DON'T HEY JOE ME, ASSHOLE! I HAVE TO HEAR FROM ANDY YOU WENT TO THERAPY? THAT'S MESSED UP, PETE! EVEN FOR YOU!"

"Joe, sorry! It's just I didn't think to tell all that many people. Andy called to see what's up."

"THAT'S A FUCKED UP ANSWER, PETE! YOU SURE AS HELL KNOW I WANTED TO CALL TO! I'M GROUNDED IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T HEARD! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK TO YOU FOR ALMOST A MONTH!"

"What? Why?"

"THAT STUNT YOU PULLED? MY MOM FOUND YOUR FUCKING SWEAT SHIRT UNDER MY BED! IT REEKED OF BEER AND WHISKY, JACKASS!"

"Oh. Well if you're not allowed to talk to me I sure as fuck don't want to get you in more trouble."

"PETE… FUCK MAN! YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU!" I slammed the phone down. I knew I had hurt him. Somewhere inside I knew, but didn't care. I went back to my guitar to blow off steam.

* * *

I wanted to hit something. Break it, destroy it, watch it burn, maybe watch it bleed. I took a deep breath knowing I sounded like a psycho. Then again maybe I was- I don't know- that doctor hadn't told me what was wrong with me yet. 

_Calm. Calm. In… out._

"I'm sorry." I knew he had hung up.

"Peter?" my mom asked.

"Yeah, mom?" I wouldn't cry.

"What's wrong?" she looked at me with concern.

"Nothing. I'm fine. What did you want?" I felt my eyes burn. My best friend hated me.

"I was going to tell you to get ready for bed. We're going down to Dr. Steckmen's office early tomorrow."

"Okay. I will." I walked upstairs to the shower.

I let the water run as I looked at myself in the steadily fogging mirror. I thought I was weird looking. I was oddly proportioned, short, big head, too skinny; I had blue hair, which I guess wasn't the way I looked it was the way I made myself look; and my eyeliner was running. The mirror was now totally steamed, so I stepped into the shower. I sighed as the hot water soaked me completely. I couldn't hold back, I felt the tears come.

I woke up early and dressed quickly. I looked in the mirror to make sure no one would tell I had only slept an hour. It had been a tortured hour spent tossing and turning in darkness and shadow. My eyes were red and I had dark circles under my eyes, but no worse than usual.

I tiptoed down stairs and made a PB&J sandwich. I ate quickly wanting to go back in my room before anyone else woke up. I grabbed some juice and almost on habit went to the liquor cabinet for vodka, and had started to pick the lock before I thought about what I was doing. If I had been the only one awake before I would have gotten buzzed then brushed my teeth and went to school before anyone had woken up. I decided it was a bad thing to show up to your therapist's office half drunk when you were sent there for being an underage binge drinker.

I sat in my room dividing my time between playing my bass, reading, and listening to music. I had been awake for about two hours before my dad burst in.

"Don't you knock?" I stopped playing.

"You're up."

"_Yes I'm up._" I sneered.

"Don't take a tone, Peter."

"Sorry." My fingers still ghosted over the fingerboard.

"You're in trouble." Thank you Captain Obvious.

"I know." I nodded.

"Grounded for two months."

"I wouldn't take any less."

"No phone, records."

"Okay." I stared at my fingers as they held down the strings.

"No guitar." He held his hand out as if he expected me to just hand it over.

"WHAT?" that hit home.

"You heard me give me your guitar. You'll get it back in two months."

"I AM NOT GIVING YOU MY _BASS _GUITAR!" I corrected him.

"Peter, do not be difficult! Give me the _bass guitar._" He pulled it from my hand.

"WHY NOT JUST TAKE MY ARM TOO?" I yelled at he walked down the stairs with my beloved bass. I threw a book at the door as it closed. I put my eyeliner on extra heavy; I knew it would piss off my parents.

"Peter, please wipe that stuff off of your face." My mom was finishing her coffee at the table.

"Can I have my fucking bass back?" she just sighed.

"Peter." She shook her head.

I grabbed my shoes and laced them up. "Are we leaving soon?"

"Yes." She grabbed her keys.

"Fine."

The car ride was quiet that is until my mom decided I needed to talk about it.

"What was Joe yelling about on the phone last night?" she asked.

"Me, it's always me." I shrugged playing with the window, rolling it up then down then up again.

"Pick one." I picked down. "Why was he mad?"

"Andy told him I went to a shrink." I hung my head out the window hoping she would take that as a sign I didn't want to talk.

"It was just an analysis to see if might need to go to rehabilitation." She obviously wanted me to say something.

"There is no fucking way I'm going to fucking rehab." I shook my head.

"That is for the doctor to decide. Besides you said you wouldn't go to boot camp."

"I got my ass kicked everyday! I cried and begged to go home!" I yelled. "If rehab is half as bad… I'll… I'll kill myself!" I think somewhere inside she knew I would do it.

"We'll see. So, did your father tell you about your punishment?" don't put her on a teen hotline.

"If by tell you mean barged into my room yelled at me and then ripped my bass away then yes. He told me."

"Peter, you know what you did was wrong." She shook her head. _God I hope we get there soon_.

"I know."

"Why did you do it then." She sounded worried. I was painfully remained of the fight I had had with Joe.

"If you cared you would have noticed it before this." I sighed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I shrugged. "I do care, Peter, and so does your father! That's why we're doing this, because we love you and we really do want you to get better!" I turned on the radio.

"Mrs. Wentz, hello. I think we should just get down to business." God I **really** hated this guy. "Your son suffers from depression and insomnia." Yeah I was depressed no shit, dumbass. I couldn't sleep? Man, give this guy a fucking award.

"Really?" How could she say that? Had she been living in denial?

"Yes he will have to take medication. And there is a possibility of rehab for alcohol abuse and possible drug abuse-"

"I'm not on fucking drugs and I'm sure as hell not going to fucking rehab!" I was on my feet now and my fists were clenched.

"Okay, okay settle down." He held out his hands. "It was a suggestion. If you're sure you are fine without it then we can't make you go." I sat down, albeit reluctantly.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"I would like to schedule a few sessions with you." He said. "But right now I'd like to talk to your mother alone for a minute." I nodded and left. Wondering what he would say to her I put my ear against the door, which caused the receptionist to give me funny looks. It took everything I had not to as her if she thought it was smart to stare at a crazy person.

"Thank you, Dr. Steckmen." The door hit my head.

"Fuck." I grabbed my head.

"Peter? What's wrong?" Mom looked at me.

"Nothing. My head hurts." I rubbed my head before following her out of the office.


	5. Share the Blame

We went to the pharmacy after that. We picked up two neon orange bottles, and I was told to start taking them before I went to bed. When we got back my mom locked herself in her room and I thought I heard her crying, I did the same.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.

"Lunch is ready. You should eat something before you go back to school."

"'Kay, Mom. I'll be out in a second." I hoped she hadn't heard the sob in my voice.

I looked in the mirror to make sure I looked all right. I looked like shit. Before going down the stairs I went into the bathroom to wash my face. My eyes were still blood shot, but I could hide that. I walked down the stairs to find a sandwich on the table. I wolfed it down, and went back upstairs without saying a word.

* * *

I didn't regret yelling at Pete. I mean where did he get off not telling his so-called best friend that he went to therapy? I did regret that that was the last thing I said. I wish I had given him time to explain. But now I was fucked. I wasn't allowed to talk to Pete for a month. I was allowed to talk to Andy and a few of the other 'good influences' in my life, but all I did was ask about Pete. 

"Andy?" I had called after dinner one night.

"Yeah. Hey, Joe!" he seemed surprised I had called.

"Hey. So how is he?"

"In school? He seems… okay. He says he's in a good place now."

"Does he still hate me?" I knew I sounded nervous.

"No. The opposite! He hates himself, he says you were right and he is an asshole." I felt so bad. He blamed himself; I was hoping he blamed me. That way he could feel better about himself.

"No, I was wrong. It's totally his choice who he tells." I collapsed on the bed.

"Joe, you know how I feel about this." I could hear the frown in his voice.

"I know, I know." Andy thought the whole fight was dumb. It had taken almost an hour of convincing just to make him promise he'd tell me how Pete was.

"Anyway, what have you been doing?" he changed the subject.

"First I threw stuff; then I broke stuff; then I swore, a lot; then got yelled at for breaking, throwing, and swearing; now I'm here, talking to you."

"Just apologize." He sighed

"I wish I could so much, but I'm grounded."

"I can do it for you." I think he just wanted me to stop asking about him.

"no, Andy, I think I should talk to him."

"Okay I ju-What? Yeah hang on! – I gotta go."

"Okay, bye."

"Talk to you in school?"

"Yeah, sure." I hung up.

* * *

This is so short cause i wrote it on my actual desktop i'm still writing this though! so sorry Pete cries so much lately and sorry Andy isn't as big a part as he should be but fear not soon Fall out Boy comes into the picture! 


	6. Halfway Mark

**A/N: first of all don't fucking report me for being in the wrong category or other shit because this is the best category for it. And also it says what it's about clearly in the summary if you don't like don't read, but don't be a bitch about it. There are millions of other stories on here about real people are you going to report **_**all**_** of them? **Sakuuya, **how bout you suggest another site? If you don't like FOB don't read a fanfic about them simple as that.**

**Second of all: I WILL NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING AGAIN!!! ****I over estimated Joe's age****, and fucked the timeline up!!! So Joe is getting bumped up a year… or four. SO SORRY! I should give my Joe doll to a bigger Trohmaniac…I'm gonna go bury myself alive… I dedicate my last breath to Peter. **

* * *

The month went by quickly enough. I could talk to everyone important- okay really just Andy- in school. Joe was the only thing I missed, it was weird to feel bad and not talk to him. The pills helped but they didn't make me feel good they made me feel… not sad or angry. They substituted the numbness I'd been looking for, but now it made me feel empty, not like the thrill of jumping fences and climbing trees to hide it the day after. It was like I knew it was controlled, it would never get any better or any worse. Just… the same everytime. 

After that month I knew I could talk to Joe, and explain myself to him if he would listen. That made me feel a little better.

"Pete?"

"Joe, hi." I was sitting in the lunchroom with Andy and a few of our other friends.

"umm… look, can we talk."

"yeah sure. Sit down." I moved over.

"what, Chris? Wait, yeah hang on." Andy looked uncomfortable as he pretended our friend had yelled something to him from a few tables away as he stood up and gestured for other people to do the same. Joe waited until they had moved to Chris before speaking.

"Pete, look, I'm so sorry. I was mad that you didn't tell me, but it's totally your choice who you tell."

"I wanted to tell you, so bad, but I was afraid you'd hate me. You'd think I was crazy."

"Pete, you should know I'd never think that." He turned towards me as he shook his head. "you're my best friend , I couldn't think that about you." he put his hand on my shoulder, and looked me in the eye. I knew he was telling the truth. He was my best friend and I was his best friend we couldn't stay mad.

"so," he cocked his head. "We okay?"

"we were never not okay." I laughed.

"thank god, because I was really starting to get lonely. Andy's cool, but he's not you." He grinned and stole one of my French fries.

I couldn't talk to Joe outside of school, but I was just glad to know he didn't hate me. I had my friend back, and things seemed as normal as they'd ever get. God, I was so fucking wrong

* * *

"Yes, Joseph?" the teacher approached my desk. 

"I finished my worksheet, can I go to the bathroom?"

"I'll write you a pass." She said scribbling something then handing it to me.

"Thanks." I walked out, and closed the door. I walked towards the cafeteria, and was glad to find my timing was perfect, Pete was just sitting down with Andy and a few other people I assumed were in his grade. I was only a little younger than Pete was, but I was still a grade below him. I walked in unnoticed, until I walked up to Pete.

"Pete?" I hoped I didn't sound as nervous as I felt

"Joe, hi." He looked up at me.

"umm… look, can we talk." I dropped my gaze to the floor

"yeah sure. Sit down." he moved over, motioning to the seat next to him.

"what, Chris? Wait, yeah hang on." Andy yelled to some kid a few tables away. I knew he was just trying to give Pete and I privacy, and I was thankful for that.

"Pete, look, I'm so sorry. I was mad that you didn't tell me, but it's totally your choice who you tell." I said after they had left.

"I wanted to tell you, so bad, but I was afraid you'd hate me. You'd think I was crazy." I almost hit him for even thinking I would think that.

"Pete, you should know I'd never think that." I turned to him and shook my head. "you're my best friend , I couldn't think that about you. Not I wouldn't, I couldn't."

I was telling the truth I wouldn't think that of Pete. He was my best friend, one of a kind, irreplaceable as my brother. I just wanted to have him back at my side, making me laugh when I needed to, and being there when I needed a shoulder.

"so," I tilted my head. "We okay?"

"we were never not okay." He laughed.

"thank god, because I was really starting to get lonely. Andy's cool, but he's not you." I grinned and ate a fry off his plate.

Pete was still grounded so we couldn't talk outside of school, but at least I had my best friend back. _He didn't hate me_. That fact kept me happy for the rest of the day. I was fine Pete was fine, but more importantly all this fucked up drama shit could end, and it would be normal in a month. How fucking wrong can one teenage boy be?

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**A/N: thank you to all that reviewed.**

**Fireheart1317, Patrick is gonna come soon don't worry. You can't have FOB without the Rickster. lol**


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